Aftermath
by clairedelunexx
Summary: Lara is dealing with the aftermath of Yamatai, and when she meets a mysterious guy at a club one night he induces unpleasant memories of Alex and she's not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fanfiction except the ones clearly my own (i.e Angel, not to be confused with Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Angel is just a name I like) but all characters are property of Crystal Dynamics. Obviously, this is a fanfiction and written for your entertainment. :) I hope you enjoy reading it. **_

_**Summary: It has been two months after escaping the island of Yamatai and Lara is still struggling with the aftermath. Until she meets a young man at a club by the name of "Angel", who invokes an unpleasant memory of Alex Weiss and the last time she saw him, reminding her of how she was the sole reason for his death. Who is Angel and why does he make her feel so afraid, yet strangely secure...?**_

**Aftermath**

**-Chapter 1-**

"_Sometimes, you've got to make sacrifices, Lara..."_

"_I KNOW about SACRIFICES."_

"_No, you know about loss. Sacrifice is a chose you make, loss is a choice made for you."_

Lara Croft closed her eyes as Conrad Roth's familiar Yorkshire accent echoed inside her head; the painful reminder causing pain to throb at the base of her chestplate. She clutched it with one hand, eager to keep herself from falling apart; trying.

_Keep breathing. Oh, keep breathing, Lara._

She couldn't believe this. Only two months had passed since escaping Yamatai, and here she was, enduring what she assumed to be post-traumatic stress. At least, that's what her doctors would say. Over and over and over…like damn broken records.

She didn't want to confront that possibility, though. There was absolutely no way in hell that she was reacting negatively in dealing with the aftermath of surviving Yamatai. Because that was exactly it; she had _survived. _She was done with the nightmare of Himiko and the Solarii and the Stormguard and Matthias...wasn't she?

"_Drop your weapons! Or we kill your friend!"_

"_Don't fuckin' do it!"_

As if to spite her efforts in trying to forget, Grim's screams ripped through her head, and she hastily squeezed her eyes tight, willing away the unwanted truth. That ugly piece of knowledge that threatened to force itself upon her every chance it got. The big, horrible voice reminding her that it was _her _fault that they had died.

Grim...

Alex...

…_Roth_.

_All because of you, _she scolded herself.

"No no no no...," she muttered, rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around her in hopes that these memories wouldn't rip her to tiny pieces until she was nothing more. She moaned as yet another memory arose, forcing her to watch. She had become a slave to her own mind.

"_I'm not going to make it out of here, Lara...How many guys like me get to be the hero?"_

A painful cry ripped from her throat and she turned her head to bite down on her shirt. _Stop thinking of all this. What if Sam were to come by? She'd try to send you off to another psychiatric hospital._

"Lara?"

_Dammit_. She quickly swiped away the tears on her face and stood, smoothing her sweaty palms along her jeans, desperate to recollect herself as best she could. With a shaky breath, she moved down the hallway and opened the door, revealing her best friend's concerned face. It seemed to be the only expression she saw on anyone's face these days. Reyes, then Jonah. And now Sam, of all people. She was sick and tired of their pity, but she had to endure it.

"Sam? What's going on?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorjamb, attempting to seem cavalier.

The other girl hesitated a moment, as if shocked at Lara's efforts, before saying, "Um, a few of the girls from downstairs were thinking of heading to a club later and they invited me...said I could invite whomever. I want you to come. You game?"

_No, no I wouldn't be "game"._ Lara bit down on her lip and started to shake her head, intent on saying just that but Sam jumped in first.

"I know you're having a hard time dealing with the Yamatai aftermath."

"Really?" Lara asked with mock shock. "Then you must already know my answer."

"Yes, I knew you'd try to back out, but Lara; that's what you've been doing for almost two months now. Staying inside, sulking, indulging in all the horrors of your memories; it's not healthy."

Lara sighed and rested her head against the doorjamb, dropping the fake air of relaxation. "Sam, I don't know. I've been so paranoid lately. I don't think I'm ready to hang around crowds. I can still lash out at anyone that might provoke some unwanted memories of the Solarii or...Matthias."

Sam nodded but stepped forward, gripping her hand tightly. "I know it's hard, L. But don't forget...you're not the only one reliving the past every single day. You're not the only one being forced to look at horrifying images each time you wake up from a restless sleep. So, yes, I understand your pain - more than you know."

"Sam...," Lara started but got interrupted again.

"Don't 'Sam' me. You're coming tonight; I think it would be really good," Sam released Lara's hands and glanced down at her Rolex. "Now, the girls want to leave at seven, which is an hour from now - so you can clean yourself up and be good by then. Right?" Lara didn't say anything, just looked off into the distance and slowly nodded her head. What would be the point in arguing? Whenever Sam Nishimura got something into her head, it was nigh impossible to get it back out again.

"Good, this'll be really great for you, I promise. Seeya then, babe." With a swift hug and peck on the cheek, the other girl turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall, abandoning Lara in the doorway, glazed look in her eyes.

"Good job, Croft. Your communication skills are astounding today," she scolded herself. But with a sigh, she wiped her cheeks again and shut the door firmly, sliding home the bolt in the lock.

Checking her watch, she strode over to the tiny kitchen and plucked up her iPhone, unwinding the earbuds and absentmindedly sticking them in her ears. Perhaps listening to her favorite music would wash away the unwanted memories that seemed to love taunting her lately.

"Siri, play Florence and the Machine."

_Looking up from underneath_

_Fractured moonlight on the sea_

Lara stepped into her room and hastily plucked up a fuzzy blue towel, then proceeded to her bathroom where she quickly jammed hr phone into it's player, and stepped into the shower, trying to ignore the flashes of horrible memories starting once again in her head, and focused on the lyrics of the song and beat of hot water pounding her backside. It was difficult, because the memories always seemed to flicker in her mind like a moving picture show. It made reliving the past so much harder than it already was.

_Reflections still look the same to me_

_As before I went under_

After finishing up, Lara picked out an ordinary outfit of standard gray cargos and a navy blue sweater; and then just sat at her desk, allowing her thoughts to keep on wandering, despite her regretting where they usually led. Why not, though? She had nothing better to do and feeling the pain of Yamatai was the only reminder that it all hadn't been a dream. It kept her course, there was always the obvious choice to read a good book or one of her father's many journals - but ever since Yamatai, the very idea of jumping back into archaeology made her sick to her stomach.

_And it's peaceful in the deep_

_Cathedral where you cannot breathe_

As she closed her eyes again, she was surprised to see the face of Alex Weiss, the last time she saw it, a look of pure desperation in his clear green eyes.

"_Finally, I impressed you."_

"_Let's get you out of here."_

She shook her head and pressed both hands to the sides of her face, unable to bear the pain of missing the sweet, nerdy young man that had held nothing but admiration for her. Why couldn't she just accept that he was gone, and never coming back?

_Because it's your fault he's dead, that's why,_ she cruelly reminded herself, fighting back tears. _He loved you and you were too absorbed in your own silly life to notice. And now he's dead._

_No need to pray, no need to speak_

_Now I am under all_

"Stop it," she groaned, disappointed in herself for going so far. "It's not your fault. Stop beating yourself up." Maybe Sam was right. This little outing was probably a good thing for her. After all, it was a chance to get out, see new people and surround herself in a loud environment, which would hopefully distract her thoughts from drifting to the very thing she desperately wanted to forget,

With a deep sigh, she wiped both eyes once, stood up and grabbed her bag. She trudged over to the hallway mirror, looked at her reflection and studied her appearance. She looked pale; her normally rosy complexion heightened by light freckles was now ashen and her normally rich brown hair looked limp and consisted mainly of split-ends. Dark circles ringed beneath her eyes like charcoal, immediately giving away her lack of sleep and the corners of her mouth pulled down in a permanent frown.

"Lara Croft, you are one heaping mess, you know that?" she told her reflection, running a shaking hand through her hair and swiftly pulled it into a ponytail, allowing a few strands to fall out around her face just as she liked it. She pinched the apples of her cheeks and dabbed on some smoky eyeshadow from her bag.

"There, that doesn't look quite so demure," she admitted, scrutinizing herself once more. "At least it'll have to do."

Moments later, the doorbell sounded and she met Sam and the others out in the hall, faking a smile before following them out into the midnight air.

"Come on, Lara! Dance with me!" Sam's voice seemed to echo like a dream as she shimmied over and gripped Lara's hands, yanking her in the direction of the dance floor. Her skin glowed with sweat, and her dark brown eyes bright; clearly the affects of the alcohol still very much in her system. Typical Sam; always one for a good time. Ever the partier, she was.

Lara groaned and planted her feet firmly on the ground. She had agreed to accompany them to the club, but she drew the line when it came to bouncing around on the bloody thing they called a "dance floor". It was hideous with it's flashing neon tiles, not even pulsing to the beat of the damn music - which, by the way, was none other than Jennifer Lopez's _Dance Again_.

"No no, I am not dancing, Sam. I am going to sit right here and enjoy my drink." Lara forced a teasing smirk and gestured at her beverage, eager to prove how serious she was at not dancing.

"Ugh, my god, Croft. You're SUCH a wet freakin' blanket!" Sam tried once again in vain to tug on Lara's arm, but she wouldn't budge. Thank god she had acquired all that new muscle back on Yamatai, else Sam might've had a chance in extracting her from her chair.

With a defeated sigh, Sam released her hand and marched off into the sea of people. Lara chuckled lightly and took a small sip of her drink, swallowing thoughtfully as her eyes drifted out over the people's heads, allowing her mind to wander. It was less dangerous now that the pumping music distracted her enough to not be negatively affected by the horror that was now her mind. However, she still saw all the faces of the loved ones that had died flickering like blacklights in her peripherals, and it still made her heart skip several beats.

Especially since the first face that floated out in front of her was none other than Roth. _Again_.

"_I'm sorry, Lara. I'm sorry. You can do this...you're a Croft."_

She took another deep swallow of beer and slammed down the glass, wincing as it unexpectedly shattered on the table.

"Damn it-" she cursed and hastily tried to mop up the mess with the sleeve of her sweater, until she realized too late how it would make her reek. She groaned in disbelief and stopped mopping, glancing up to see if she could spot an available bartender. One young man with a mop of unkept black hair stood out behind the counter, seemingly unaware of the people in the club. He seemed to be the only one not tending to bumbling drunk clumsily ordering another beer.

"Brilliant," she breathed, as she swiftly beat a path to the man, tugging on the hem of her sweater and smoothing down her ponytail.

"Um, excuse me? Might I borrow a few napkins?"

The man, not even bothering to look at her, shoved over a napkin dispenser. He didn't even utter a word. Lara thought that quite rude. Back when she had worked at the Nine Bells, she had been constantly reminded of the importance of being nice to customers.

This guy, for lack of a better term, sucked balls at his job.

"Excuse me?" came his annoyed retort, now suddenly looking up and glaring at her with sharp blue eyes.

_Oh shit_, she thought as the realization hit her like a cold splash of water. Had she just said that out loud? Ugh, this was why she hardly ever drank alcohol. It had a tendency to make her speak her innermost thoughts.

"Oh, I'm...nothing. I'll just...take these." She clumsily grabbed at the napkin dispenser and tried to make a quick getaway when the man suddenly stood up, circling the counter to where she still stood.

"You're a bit open-minded, aren't you?" came his sharp tone, causing Lara to stumble back a little, taken by surprise. But it was shortlived because she quickly shook herself of the shock and faced him, putting down the napkin dispenser.

"Not all the time, only when I notice when someone is being rather rude."

"And how was I being rude?"

"By acting like the world's shittiest bartender."

"You asked for napkins, did you not?"

She paused, then nodded very slowly. "Yes, I did, but-"

"And I gave you the dispenser, no?"

She huffed and crossed her arms. "You did, but no eye contact and no word came with it."

He chuckled bitterly. "I never realized giving one napkins had to come with conversation. I guess I didn't get the memo."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the dispenser again. "Forget it. You're not worth my time, anyway." She turned on her heel and moved back to the table, still feeling irritated over the young man's rudeness. She knew though, that she _had_ been a tad harsh. Who was she to judge someone she didn't know? For all she knew, he could've had other things on his mind, and she, like always, just refused to see those signs.

As she started to clean up the mess she made, she suddenly felt a presence beside her and hastily looked up, heart flying into her throat when she saw who it was. She quickly schooled her features into a disappointed frown.

"Oh, it's you again," she spat. "I'm sorry, was were my last words to subtle for you? Did you think I meant 'I'd love to keep chatting'?" But much to her surprise, he smiled at her and stuck out his hand. "Actually, I'm here to apologize for being so rude. I'm Angel."

Lara rolled her eyes and turned her back on him, continuing to mop up her self-inflicted beer-mess. _He's not here, not here...a cute male specimen is not talking to you; especially not after being such an obvious bitch to him_. She scrubbed hard at the table.

"Now who's being rude, Miss No-Name?"

"Oh, for god's sake," Lara slammed down her damp napkin and turned to face him again, not bothering to fake a smile. "It's Lara, actually. Lara Croft." She flashed a quick smirk and turned her back on him to pick up the damp paper towels still lying on the table.

"Lara Croft. L.C. Nice. Almost makes one forget how unpleasant you are."

She froze as the sudden memory slammed into her like a tidal wave.

"_We got everything crossed for you down here, L.C."_

She suddenly dropped the napkins and collapsed against the table, the only thing keeping her from sliding and falling to the ground being a hand suddenly gripping her waist.

Angel. His name's Angel.

"Whoa, careful there."

_Say thank you._ "Thanks" she managed to slur out, aware that her vision had gone completely fuzzy. All she could focus on was the jarring memory still radiating at the center of her mind; like some cruel joke meant to antagonize her.

Meant to remind her that Alex was dead.

Because of her.

"No," she moaned, as an overwhelming wave of emotion hit her again and she felt her knees give out then, unable to hold her own weight.

Angel managed to keep her upright and swung her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her out of the club. Lara barely registered any of it, except that she did feel slightly better when the crisp night air bit her face, thus shaking the horrid images out of her mind.

As soon as Angel set her on her feet, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Feeling better?"

She hesitated before answering, "Yes. Thank you." As she started to smooth herself out, and collect her bearings, the young man broke the heavy silence that had managed to set in.

"You, um, you need help getting home? I could drive you..."

Lara then looked up at him, taking the time to really study his features. He was handsome; not normally her type but definitely had a devil-may-care look about him with his messy black hair, hints at five-o-clock shadow and sleepy look in his glacier blue eyes. He was what Sam would call "supersexy". He wasn't enormously buffed, but he definitely had definition. And she liked the name; it definitely suited him.

"Um, hello, earth to Lara?"

_Oh, shit, you're staring_. She quickly turned her face away so it seemed like she wasn't being rude, and tried to remember what he had asked her. But she was coming up blank.

"Um, I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?" she blushed. "Alcohol makes me fuzzy."

He chuckled. "I asked if you need a ride."

"Oh! Yes, that would be love-perfect. Yes. Perfect. That would be perfect. A ride would be...perfect." She cringed and clamped her mouth tightly shut, in hopes that would stop this meaningless rambling that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

"Great," replied Angel. "Stay here and I'll be right back."

As he left her alone on the abandoned sidewalk, she suddenly realized how quiet it was in comparison to the noisy club. She didn't like it; because the silence tended to endure the worst of her PTSD and like always, she tried to avoid it all costs.

"Don't think about it, Lara. Don't think about it," she comforted herself, drawing in a deep breath of cool air. "You're gonna be fine."

_That's what you think, L.C. _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Aftermath**_

_**-Baby Steps-**_

"_You can have the best form and technique in the world; but it won't mean a thing if you can't FOCUS. They key to using any weapon...is focus..."_

"_...Alright, Lara, you won't always have some fancy gadget to tell you where you are. If you can learn to read the land and the stars, you'll always be able to find your way home..."_

"Lara?" an unfamiliar voice interrupted her heavy daydream. It almost sounded dream-like, as if it were an echo of a human voice, not really there. It wouldn't be the first time Lara heard things not there.

She fought to tune out the echo as she searched through her scattered mind for Roth. She _had _to hear him; just once more.

"_Lara, I'm sorry. I got you into this mess. I made a promise to your father, the last time I saw him, I swore I would look after you - keep you out of trouble. And what did I do? I put you right int he thick of it..."_

"Lara!" this time the unfamiliar voice was louder, less like an echo and she felt Roth's voice shatter like glass and her head snapped up. It was then she remembered where she was.

She was still in her therapist's office. She had just drifted off into her own thoughts again, giving in as always to the horrible hallucinations that had forced her into the small, cramped office in the first place.

How ironic, right?

She forced her head in the right place and smiled apologetically at the doctor, utterly horrified. "Oh, I'm terrible sorry, Dr. Ritter. I must have drifted."

The kind man's worried face broke into a concerned smile and he ran a nervous hand back through his cropped dark hair, nodding understandably.

Lara always admired his kind face, the way those gentle features never seemed to harden with frustration or anger or exhaustion - just always held the collective calm that never failed to put her at ease. It was probably for the best too; seeing as lately she wasn't exactly the best at keeping her head on straight, the memories and horrors constantly slamming her like a full-body forcefield kept her from her much-needed sanity.

"Do you want to maybe cut the session short for today, Lara?"

Her head snapped up, realizing once again that she had drifted off. She had to stop doing that, or at least put forth the effort. She shoved a flyaway hair that had managed to escape her already messy ponytail and blushed. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm being so rude today, please forgive me. I don't mean to do it, I promise."

The man smiled softly, his green eyes shining with pity. "It's okay, Lara, you don't have to be sorry. Inattentiveness is a common side-effect of your condition; and after such a traumatic occurrence such as yours, it'll take your mind a while to heal completely."

Lara bit her lip at the term "your condition". It was one term removed from the dreaded "PTSD", sure, but it all meant the same thing. It was clearly the same reminder told her over and over: You are crazy.

The doctor shifted in his seat, and leaned forward to collect his notepad from the coffee table, then arose to his feet. Lara quickly followed suit, reaching down to scoop up her fallen messenger bag and slinging it across her shoulder.

"I'll see you then next week? Same time?"

She nodded hesitantly, avoiding his eyes. It seemed like each week he asked her that same question, a small voice at the back of her mind urged her to say no and request a cancellation of future sessions; because she didn't feel like they helped at all. In fact, it seemed as if she was getting worse not better. The evidence being the constant nightmares that were starting to manifest into daydreams.

The hallucinations of Roth, Grim and Alex didn't help, either...

But as usual, she couldn't bring herself to tell the doctor she wanted out of the sessions. So each week, with each farewell, she ignored the voice and repeated the same thing she said every week: "Yes, sir. See you then."

If this were a movie, she'd sure win one hell of an Oscar.


	3. Chapter 3

_**DISCLAIMER: Ok, I am aware that in my last chapter, it may have seemed like I was starting randomly and forgot about Angel, but no worries! Because I didn't – I felt like starting the chapter after the events of the club, because I wanted to detail Lara's PTSD a little more, focus on that a bit before jumping back into this Angel thing. Now, I'm still not sure whether this will be a Lara/Angel or Sam/Lara or Sam/Lara/Angel; because I kind of wanted to do something with Sam because I've always felt there was something more than friendship between the two girls…but I'm not sure…Just have to see where the fic takes me. Enjoy!**_

_**Aftermath**_

_**-New Beginnings-**_

The rain pattered like fingernails against the car window as Lara sat in the Starbucks parking lot, staring blankly at the screen of her iPhone.

Staring at the text message that contained three little words.

**Plz call me**

It was from Angel; the same guy she had met two nights ago at the club she had almost not gone to, if it hadn't been for Sam's nagging.

And now he was texting her.

She had to be honest with herself, she was shocked. She hadn't been expecting a message from him seeing as she had entirely forgotten she had even given him her number. Or maybe he had given her his, she just didn't remember programming it into her cell.

Whatever – the point being, she had his number now and the message on the screen taunted her like a piece of forbidden fruit.

_Just do it, girl. You still haven't thanked him for driving you home that night…cause that's an awesome excuse to call a cute boy… _She groaned outwardly to herself and slid the screen with her finger, typing out a reply:

**Meet me starbux on main st**

As she clicked the phone off, she leaned her head back against the seat. "Really? Did you _have _to text him. He clearly said call. Unless you don't speak English, that doesn't mean text."

Her phone buzzed and she glanced down. Another text:

**Interesting call there, l.c.**

And before she could stop it, the memory slammed into her like a mac truck.

"NO!" she squeezed both sides of her head with her hands and forced the image away before it could surface. Not again… she wouldn't let these visionary horrors haunt her anymore. Dropping her hands, she picked up her bag, and left the car, slamming the door shut behind her.

She stared up at the Starbucks ahead of her and sighed.

"This is it, Lara. Your time to shine." She walked through the doors and didn't look back.

"Lara?"

She looked up from her nearly empty coffee up and into the eyes of none-other than Angel. He was shockingly, and overwhelmingly relieving to see. For the last half hour, all she had been able to see were those garish daydreams and seeing this man's face was like seeing the sun for the first time – it was…

"Angel, hi," she smiled, rolling her hands nervously along her gray cargoes and stood up, only to quickly stumble and slam backward onto the chair again. Her cheeks warmed and she looked down at her coffee, pretending to be more interested in it then Angel himself. Which was ridiculous, because he looked unbelievably sexy in a plain white tee, black leather hoodie and dark brown khakis. On his feet, red Converse completed the ensemble.

Lara felt like squealing; but she restrained herself.

"Um, can I sit?" the young man asked, a light laugh following the question.

Lara looked up and smiled, waving her hand to the seat in front of her. "By all means. You want coffee?"

Angel waved away the offer, and sat back, crossing his arms casually. "Nah, not really a coffee drinker. I'm more into energy drinks and Pop-Tarts."

Lara giggled and sat a little straighter, gently shoving her cup to the side. It was nearly empty, anyhow, and she was starting to taste coffee grounds. It amazed her what meeting Angel allowed her to do. Under normal circumstances, she drank hot beverages quite slowly – but in this case, she had managed to consume nearly the entire thing in under ten minutes.

Angel definitely made her nervous. To her core.

_Quick! Make conversation or something! _She urged herself when she realized that she hadn't spoken for at least several minutes. She clasped her hands together and leaned forward, tracing a pattern on the table's surface. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Angel chuckled. "I need an excuse to hang with an attractive woman such as yourself?"

"Um," she paused and felt her cheeks warm again, this time not bothering to try and hide it. "You…think I'm attractive?"

"Well, it's the truth, right?"

Nervous laughs exchanged mouths simultaneously, Lara being the first one to reply to that. She tugged on one of the sleeves of her jeans jacket and bit down on her lip.

"So, what do we do now?"

Angel shrugged his shoulders. "Well, we could always start out by getting to know one another. I mean, isn't that how friendship's begin?"

"Yeah," she replied then, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yes I guess you're right." She reached her hands forward and took the man's in a firm handshake. "I'm Lara Croft."

He smiled as he clasped her hand. "I'm Angel."


	4. Chapter 4

_**DISCLAIMER: Well, I've decided to try out Sam/Lara; and if it sucks, then it's back to just Angel/Lara. Not to say I'm trashing those two completely – there will definitely be a Lara/Angel thing, cuz hey, Crystal Dynamics owns everyone else in this fic, need Lara to have a romantic entanglement with someone I made up, right?**_

_**Aftermath**_

_**-Tensions Run High, Inhibitions Run Low-**_

Lara pulled up in front of her flat; stalling for a second in the driveway, glancing down at her phone with a new text message waiting unread on the screen. It had alerted her three times on the drive back, but she had neglected to check until she was safely parked in her driveway.

When she finally glanced at the screen, she saw that it was from Sam.

** ur house; wanna hang? :P**

Lara shook her head with a slight smile on her face, and turned the key in the ignition. She exited the car and hurried up to her apartment, letting herself in to a welcome sight. Sam, sitting on the couch in the living room, dressed in nothing but short-shorts and fitted Abercrombie&Fitch tee. Typical Sam getup.

Lara let her bag drop from her shoulder and plopped down next to the other woman, bumping her shoulder to hers.

"Hi, babe," Sam spoke, kissing Lara's head swiftly.

Lara rubbed Sam's leg and smiled. "Hi."

"What've you been up to today?"

Lara sighed and sat up, leaning forward to switch on the telly. A rerun of _Two and a Half Men _was playing and for a while, the two friends sat in silence, the unanswered question still hanging between them, waiting to be answered. But Lara, being the shy girl she normally was, she wasn't about to be the first to break the silence. After having such an eventful day, she actually found the lack of conversation comforting.

But, alas, Sam couldn't handle it.

"So…?"

Lara raised a skeptic eyebrow. "'So' what?"

"Ugh, are you meaning to tell me you've been up to nothing?"

"Maybe?" Lara smiled coyly and turned back to the show; not really watching but trying to keep her carefully attained cool. She was practically bouncing inside due to seeing Angel today, and so

wanted to gush about him to her best friend – but she was hesitant to do so, because she knew Sam. The woman was absolutely boy-crazy and in the past, any time Lara displayed any interest in the opposite species, Sam would unintentionally (or intentionally, she wasn't sure) swoop in and steal him away.

Could Lara really blame herself for wanting to keep Angel's existence a secret until things could be confirmed between them, and she could be absolutely sure he was safe from Sam's eagle-sharp claws?

She smiled to herself as Sam huffed, standing up and crossing the room to sit in the chair in the kitchen.

"Oh, come on, Sam! Am I supposed to tell you everything?" Lara stood and casually paced over to her friend, leaning up against the fridge, arms crossed casually over her chest.

The other woman looked up with a glare. "Yes, Lara. As your best friend, I reserve the right to hear every single detail of your sordid, boring life."

"Sordid and boring, huh?"

Sam stuck her tongue out teasingly. "Yes."

Rolling her eyes, Lara swung about and opened the fridge, looking into it with a distracted look in her eye. She didn't like when Sam started talking this way; it let on that the girl knew something. Somehow.

"Well, it seems like you know something, so why don't you ask it?"

"What's his name?"

Lara paused. "…Angel."

There was silence and then Sam snorted with laughter, making Lara's anger spike. She closed the fridge firmly and whirled on her, placing both fists on her hips, tapping one foot rapidly on the tile floor.

"Something funny, Nishimura?"

Sam recovered her resolve and wiped her eyes before saying, "I never knew 'Angel' was a man's name. Unless it's not a man…?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively, and ran her tongue around her lips, ending in a mocking kiss face. "You have something you want to tell me, Croft?"

Lara groaned. "Ugh, no Sam, Angel's a he. Not a…she."

"Okay, just checking," Sam got up and strolled over to where Lara stood, her teasing demeanor falling away and being replaced with pure sincerity. "Look, you know I'm just fuckin' with you, right?"

Lara grunted non-verbally.

"Babe, I'm serious. You know that whatever happens, I'm here for you…"

Lara didn't say anything again, just shrugged. But Sam reached out with one finger and touched her chin, turning her to face up. Lara looked into her friend's eyes and forced a forgiving smile; and without warning, Sam leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her mouth.

For a moment, the world seemed to slow down and Lara's muscles locked up in shock.

What was she supposed to do?

Pull away?

Push Sam and run screaming from the room in terror?

As the moment started to sink in, Sam's hands moved down her arms and settled gently on her waist, pulling her close. Lara still didn't know what to make of it all; it just happened too quickly but somehow, she felt something stir in her gut and before she could even be sure of where her mind was going, she felt her hand rise up and cup the nape of the other woman's neck.

Sam angled her body and pressed Lara up against the fridge, fingers traveling to the waistband of her jeans, fumbling at the zipper. But as soon as her skin made contact with her exposed waist Lara suddenly seemed to get her bearings and pushed away, heat flooding her cheeks like fire.

"Sam…!"

Sam blinked in surprise, and swallowed nervously, bringing a hand up to subconsciously pat at her short brown hair. A light blush could be seen coloring her cheekbones and she opened her mouth, hesitating a second before saying, "I'm sorry. I just…had to do that."

Lara stood there awkwardly, still unsure of what to say. On the one hand, she knew she was surprised by all this. I mean, anyone would be if their friend-practically-sister had just kissed them spontaneously in the sanctity of their own kitchen, right? But on the other hand, Lara was well-aware of the glaring fact that she had indeed kissed Sam back. Not to mention she let it go as far as explicit skin-on-skin contact.

But even more shocking…she wanted to do it again.

So, without saying another word, she stepped forward and pulled the other woman close again, face hovering slight above hers, waiting to see if Sam would stop her.

"Lara…?" Sam whispered in confusion, but she didn't pull away, only allowed her hands to travel back to Lara's hips.

Lara pressed a finger to her lips. "No more words." Then she closed the distance between them, eliminating any further conversation.

And as they moved out of the kitchen and down the hall to Lara's room, Lara couldn't help but feel the nagging sensation in her mind that this wasn't right.

Not by a long shot.


	5. Chapter 5

_**DISCLAIMER: Well, I've decided to try out Sam/Lara; and if it sucks, then it's back to just Angel/Lara. Not to say I'm trashing those two completely – there will definitely be a Lara/Angel thing, cuz hey, Crystal Dynamics owns everyone else in this fic, need Lara to have a romantic entanglement with someone I made up, right?**_

_**Aftermath**_

_**-Dealing with Regret-**_

Sunlight streamed in through Lara's bedroom the next morning, waking her from a long, and restless sleep. But like every other time she slept, for some reason, she wasn't plagued by horrible nightmares. Yes, this night felt restless, but the memories of Yamatai didn't make a guest appearance this time.

She was disoriented at first, as was normal when waking up, but as soon as events started falling into place, she sat up suddenly with a gasp, noticing for the first time where she was and who was there with her.

Slightly turning her head, she looked down to see a familiar young woman in the bed beside her, covered by the thin sheet and nothing more. Lara covered her mouth as the truth finally hit her like a ton of bricks.

_She had slept with Sam..._

"Oh god," she whispered, removing her hand and slowly lifting the covers so she could slip out of bed soundlessly. Sam had always been a heavy sleeper, so Lara wasn't worried about waking her.

Reaching to the floor, she picked up her white bathrobe and slid her arms through the sleeves, tying it closed and knotting the frayed belt. She tiptoed from the room and disappeared into her bathroom, shutting the door silently before turning to face her reflection in the mirror.

She was surprised to see the obvious difference. Her face was flushed, eyes alight with shock and confusion, hair messy and free of its usual ponytail. She brought her hand up to touch her face and allowed a grin to spread across her face.

She had slept with Sam! She allowed herself a laugh in relief before exiting the bathroom, entering her bedroom again and sliding once more beneath the covers. As soon as her head hit the pillow, Sam made a little sound, and her eyes flew open, immediately settling on Lara.

"Hi," the young woman mumbled, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Lara's cheeks warmed and she scooted closer to her, pressing a hand to her tiny waist. She gave the other woman a long, deep and thoughtful kiss and pressed her forehead against hers, smiling down into her soulful brown eyes. "Hi, Sam."

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

Sam blinked and then rolled her eyes. "The latest Glee episode. Um, hello? What we did last night? Do you regret it?"

Lara bit her lip and looked as if she were seriously considering it, and then sat up, slowly beginning to untie her robe and letting it fall beside her. She then proceeded to climb on top of Sam and placed her hands on both sides of the other woman's head, smiling seductively. "Does this look like me regretting?" And she lowered her head to Sam's neck, slowly letting her lips travel down and stall at the base of her throat. Sam craned her neck back and let out a small sound of pleasure, and then yanked Lara against her, rolling her to the side so their positions were reversed.

"I want you," Sam admitted.

Lara's heart skipped several beats as she replied, "Me too."

And time seemed to disappear as the two friends became lost in the bliss.

ooo

Angel paused at the door to Lara's apartment, his knuckles hovering just before the door. He wasn't sure it was a good idea that he be there, merely 24 hours after having just seen her, but he had to confront something. He had to see for himself, had to prove to both him and her that he felt something more than friendship. He couldn't yet explain it, but he knew it was damn potent. Pretty much the first time he saw her, he knew there was chemistry.

From the way her intense gray eyes stared deep into his soul and seemed to set it ablaze; it was then he knew that she was…different. So, standing just outside her door, he couldn't help but feel a nervous fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach at the mere idea of telling her how he felt. In fact, he wished that he had figured this out sooner – like yesterday – so he didn't have to both tell her his realizations AND explain to her why he was at her doorstep…

"Suck it up, man," he muttered to himself, smoothing his hands along his jeans before raising his fist again to knock on the door. "Just do it." But the moment his hand pressed on the door, it swung inward at his touch and he let his arm fall, gobsmacked.

_Maybe she forgot to lock up…? _He glanced over his shoulder and stepped over the threshold and stood in the foyer. "Um, hello? Lara?" He closed the door firmly and stepped further into the house, peering into one of the rooms, which was obviously the kitchen. Seeing no one, he kept moving through the house and then down the hallway, growing anxious at the realization that she probably wasn't home.

Just when he was about to give up and leave, he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of…what was it, _moaning_? He furrowed his brow and moved closer to the source of the sound, growing wary as the moans grew louder, and as it became apparent which room it came from, he stepped up to a closed door and pushed lightly on the wood. It opened with a slight creak and he peered inside.

And, man, did he regret it.

"What the HELL?"


	6. Chapter 6

_**DISCLAIMER: Well, I've decided to try out Sam/Lara; and if it sucks, then it's back to just Angel/Lara. Not to say I'm trashing those two completely – there will definitely be a Lara/Angel thing, cuz hey, Crystal Dynamics owns everyone else in this fic, need Lara to have a romantic entanglement with someone I made up, right?**_

_**Aftermath**_

_**-Decisions, Decisions-**_

ooo

"What the HELL?" Angel stared at the two young women, both of whom where lying in bed together, Lara being the one positioned in a most questionable position.

It made Angel sick; and at that sudden moment he couldn't stand another second and stormed back out, almost stumbling blindly toward the front door.

"Angel!"

He stalled for a minute, his hand resting on the doorknob. It occurred to him that he should maybe take the time to at least stop and listen to her before storming off like a child…

"Screw it," he cursed and tore the door open, slamming it shut behind him as he trotted down the hallway and down the stairs.

"ANGEL!" Lara's frantic cries came after him, and then the surprising patter of feet could be heard coming down the steps and seconds later, he felt her hand curl onto his shoulder and whirled around to face her. And there she was, flustered and out of breath, eyes wide with surprise and dressed in a white bathrobe, tied loosely at the waist.

It was at that moment, Angel felt like grabbing her and kissing her – until he remembered she'd preferred someone else. Someone who wasn't him.

"What is it, Lara?" he grumbled, schooling his features into a discontented frown.

The woman's hand fell away from his shoulder and she stepped back slightly, staring down at her bare feet, a lock of dark hair falling over her shoulder. When she looked back up at him, the soften glistening of tears shone in her eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"See what?" he flinched at the slight crack in his voice.

"Angel…," she tried to grab his hand but he whipped it away, unable to control the gritting of his jaw.

"Just tell me this, yeah?" he said harshly. "Are you screwing with me?"

"What?" she blinked in confusion. "I-"

"Don't lie to me."

She looked at her hands and then back at him, shoulders squaring, head tilting up to stare at him with grim determination, "I'd never lie to you, Angel. I know you haven't known me for long, but you have to know that I'm a woman of my word. I like you, and when we met the other day, I felt something…for you. It's very confusing, feeling this but I know I feel it."

Angel barked out a bitter laugh. "Is that so? What about that girl, then?"

"Sam's…complicated. She's an old friend, and I'm not quite sure what we were doing there…"

"Looked pretty sure to me," he grumbled.

Lara sighed. "Maybe I was sure. I do feel something for her, and a part of me is telling me I always have."

The man nodded in understanding. "I see."

"But I also stand by what I said about you, Angel," she continued, stepping forward and reaching for his hand again. This time he allowed her to do so. "I want to get to know you, and I really don't want what happened with Sam and me to cloud your opinions."

"It might be hard for me to forget seeing you with her," he whispered.

"I know," she replied. "I'm not asking you to. It was shocking I know, and I still don't know how I feel about these new feelings I have for her, but I don't plan on necessarily making something of it. This was more…experimental, I think."

"'Experimental'?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "So it's a…bicurious thing, then?"

Lara laughed and shrugged. "I suppose it is."

Angel smiled and leaned down to kiss her but just before his lips made contact with hers, she turned the other cheek, choosing a spot on the wall.

"Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed.

Lara smiled apologetically and held his hand, and squeezed tightly before letting it fall. "I am, too. But you'll understand why I want to take it slow…?"

"Yeah," he nodded, forcing a cheerful smile. He gave her one lingering last look before turning around to walk down the stairs, but just as his foot came down on the first step, she grabbed his hand again and spun him around, crushing her lips to his.

Angel's hand instinctively flew up to caress the back of her neck, and carelessly circled her waist with one arm, lifting her and supporting her back against the wall. She pulled away and lifted his shirt over his head, while he pulled away the belt tying close her robe, letting it drop to the floor.

He picked her up and effortlessly carried her back into her apartment, shutting the door behind them.

No one noticed Sam slip unnoticed out the door.

ooo


	7. Chapter 7

_**DISCLAIMER: Ok, so I've decided to explore Lara and Angel a little bit. I can't yet decide though whether or not I want Sam/Lara or the alternative. They both seem great to me at this point :(**_

_**Aftermath**_

_**-Complications-**_

ooo

"_There she is! Below the bridge!" the man's frantic voice shouted over a rising scream of gunfire. Lara stumbled backward, arms pinwheeling as dynamite kissed the bridge's support beams, causing it to start falling. She bent her legs and leaped onto the next platform, bullets continuously showering the air around her. Reaching up to grab the next platform's edge, she hauled herself upward and then stumbled forward, trying to ignore the relentless tornado of enemy fire. She leaped from platform to platform, sucking in deep breaths as each collapsed behind her, bullets pounding the support beams and shattering them to splinters._

_As her foot connected with the last platform, she glanced up to see a rockface looming before her. As the platform she stood upon started to shudder and give way, she pushed off and launched herself at the wall, whipping out her climbing axe in quick succession…._

_The tool's familiar clink as it bit into the rock brought a sigh of relief as she started to yank herself up, finding a foothold and then pulling the axe back out, slamming it back in above it's previous position. When she finally reached the top edge, she stuck the axe back into it's holster and pulled herself to flat ground…_

_She grabbed her radio. "Roth, I'm headed in…"_

Lara stirred in her sleep, fighting to awaken, but the dreams weren't done. She clenched her fists as another flood of images took the other one's place.

_The distant chanting grew louder as she approached the opening within the cave, and with a shuddering breath, she peeked her head slowly around and sucked in a gasp when she saw the crowd of Solarii gathered at the base of what seemed to be the beginnings of a pile of corpses. Whether or not they were fresh, she didn't know and didn't want to. She had seen too many bodies as it was, she didn't need to see any more..._

Her eyes wrenched open at that moment and the first thing she noticed was that she was still in bed; not in the geothermal caves with the Solarii and Matthias. She rubbed her eyes with the fist of one hand and sat up, resting her hand beside her and was surprised to feel skin.

"What the…?" she turned to look at the mysterious figure sleeping next to her and was shocked to see Angel. He was obviously bare chested, comforter concealing him from the waist down, and he had one arm thrown carelessly over his face while the other hung over the side of the bed. Lara reached over to move a lock of his dark hair out of his face and gazed at his peaceful expression. He looked so young and innocent while sleeping, though she supposed anyone would look that way when not under the heavy influence of life's constant bandering.

As her hand fell away from his face, he stirred suddenly and opened his eyes, slowly blinking away the remaining effects of sleep before looking up to see her, a lazy smile rising onto his face.

"Hi," he mumbled.

Lara's heart skittered like a leaf. "Oh, hi," she suddenly felt her cheeks warm and a hand flew up to touch her face. Normally, she didn't feel nervous around men, but it wasn't everyday (or ever) that she woke up in bed with one that apparently had full interest in _her _and her alone. This was a totally surreal experience, and she almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure none of it was a dream.

"Ow," she winced as she pulled her thumb and forefinger away from her ribcage. Yup, it was definitely reality.

"Did you just…pinch yourself?" Angel interrupted her scurried thoughts, a trail of amusement in his voice.

_Don't freak out, _she reminded herself. Her cheeks flamed as if to spite her and she ran a nervous, shaking hand through her tousled brown hair, unintentionally releasing a nervous sigh. This was all happening so quickly, first the bar, then the flashbacks – which hadn't made another appearance yet, thank God – and then Sam…oh God! Sam!

How could Lara forget? The last time she remembered seeing the other woman, was about a few hours ago and they had both been in bed, surrounded by infinite bliss, relishing in each other's company. Then Angel walked in for some God-knows-why reason and that's when her mind went awry, shifting into overdrive. Then one thing led to another and they had had…one unforgettable night of passion.

It was all quite confusing for Lara Croft.

As she sat up, careful not to make Angel think she was scooting away from him, she reached out for her fuzzy white bathrobe - which had been tossed carelessly to the floor. Wrapping it around herself, swiftly tying the sash loosely about her waist, she wandered out of the room and down the hall toward the small alcove-like balcony looking out over the courtyard that belonged to the villa-esque place that was her apartment complex.

She ran her hands along the cool, steel railing and bent one leg behind the other, allowing her head to tilt to the side in it's usual daydream-y fashion. This was normally the time when sorting one's options out was well-required and Lara was, if not entirely perceptive at times, attune to tradition and thinking about complicated situations was her specialty. It was normally her excuse to escape social encounters; and sometimes it even worked. Her drifting off into deep space tended to aid her in escaping any compromising situation.

Like Yamatai…

"Oh no," she gasped as the third memory of the day surfaced like a wave and crashed over her, drawing her in like an undertow. She collapsed to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees, starting to rock rapidly back and forth as…

…_her eyes flew open in horror, immediately met with an unpleasant feeling of disorientation and the mindboggling sensation of blood rushing to her head. Then she realized why._

_She was hanging by her feet, surrounded by what seemed to be dark red candles that reminded her of blood. She whipped her head back and forth, trying to see if the sudden movement would force the lower half of her body to sway her back and forth._

_But no matter how fast she shook her head, her body refused to move. _

I have to keep trying_, she urged herself, trying again, and with a bit more struggling, she started to slowly sway. Back and forth, back and forth. _

"_Hello! Jonah?! Reyes!? Help!" she yelled out, continuing to swing. "I've got to get down."_

_As she continued to sway, she was surprised that her momentum was growing more rapid. Good, then maybe she could swing hard enough and fray the rope holding her. Three more seconds of swinging and she felt her body bump against something hard – a body? – and turned her head as she collided with it again, pushing it into a nearby torch, gasping as it easily alighted and burned. A skeleton fell from the casing and clattered to the floor._

That's what I need to do! _She squared her shoulders and swung her head around, searching for another torch that was maybe closer to her. Then maybe she could get herself out of whatever kept her to this rope, and then focus on escaping whatever this Godforsaken place was._

_Finally, she spotted another torch closer to her and began to sway toward it, increasing momentum with each of her strained efforts. She caught her breath as her feet started to swing closer to the torch…_

"_This…is gonna hurt," she moaned as one last swing finally allowed her to ignite herself. Then heat seared her flesh and before she could even wrap her mind around anything more…she was falling and then…pain was everywhere._

As she thrashed and scraped along her body, two hands gripped the sides of her face and someone was shouting her name. Did she recognize the voice? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that she wanted, no _needed, _the horrible pain in her side to go away. It burned like the flames of Hell, and she wanted it all to go away, to leave her alone so she could be at peace.

"Come on," she muttered, trying to pull out whatever was stabbing her with fire. "Come on."

"Lara! Wake up, it's just a dream!" the voice cried out again. This time it was a little more familiar, at least, she knew it's gender. Obviously male, and it sounded beautiful – almost made her forget the terrible searing pain flaring at her ribcage.

Almost. But it still ruled overall. She fought to pull the thing out that was causing her this much agony…clawed at it with fingers that were obviously broken.

"Lara, please stop this," the voice begged her, less frantic now.

This time the voice seemed to act like a string to her ever-wandering kite of a mind, and she grabbed onto it, allowing it to remove the pain she was feeling. And with a silent breath of relief, felt the last of it melt away and she slowly opened her eyes, looking up into Angel's deep-set, soulful eyes.

"Thank you," she whimpered, her voice feeling hoarse.

"What happened, Lara?" he asked her, placing one arm around her shoulders and assisting her to the chaise lounge by the railing overlooking the courtyard.

She couldn't tell him. He wouldn't understand. Couldn't possibly understand the utter freakshow that was her fucked up brain.

_That's the fear talking, Lara. You know you can trust him. Sam does, Jonah, and Reyes. Why not Angel? If you ever hope to try a future with this man, you have to trust that he can deal with your past._

When she finally allowed herself to glance up at him, she summoned a long, lungful of air and told him the whole story.

Ooo

The midday sun speared through the café window with a vengeance, casting a long strip of yellow across Sam's little table. She had been sitting there for the last three hours, ordering espresso after espresso, in hopes that the caffeine would boost her spirits and erase the sadness plaguing her like heavy fog, dampening her mood to almost sub-zero-levels.

But how could she ever hope to benefit the normally lifting effects of her favorite beverage when she felt as if her heart had been torn from chest and stamped on with silver-spiked cleats? It seemed that every time she downed each espresso, and thoughtlessly ordered another, it tasted like acid on her tongue, burning her throat on the way down.

"God damn you, Lara Croft. You make it so damn hard to love you," she muttered bitterly as she drained the last few drops of her acid espresso.

"Excuse me?" a women sitting at the table opposite looked up at Sam, a large plate of half-eaten pancakes in front of her. Sam's stomach rumbled and she turned her face toward the woman, lip arcing in an unfriendly snarl.

"Didn't your mum ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?" she shoved back from the table, grabbed up her leather bag and stormed out of the café, not bothering to apologize as she nearly tornadoed her way through a young couple on their way in. She was in one of those moods that Lara had long ago nicknamed "Hurricane Samantha", and every time she slipped into it, almost everyone within a five-mile radius of her seemed to be effected.

"_We should get you a personal tornado warning device. So people know when to take cover." _Lara once said in a her brisk English accent. As the memory faded from Sam's mind, she shook her head and jogged up to her silver Miata, unlocking the drivers side and throwing herself onto the seat. Then she just sat there, head back against the headrest, eyes closed and just allowed herself to soak in all her anger and stow it away.

"She's not worth it, Sam. Not worth a damn tear," she reminded herself, taking steady deep breaths to help cool off the last few ounces of rage before opening her eyes, squinting into the windshield and hastily flipping the visor down in front of her.

She needed to get out of London for awhile, steer clear of Lara.

And she knew exactly where to go.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Author's Note: Ok, now things are getting somewhere. I've been segueing back and forth between plots here; and where it's going to lead: should I keep with the soap opera-y who-likes-who story or dive into an action-based, heart-thumping suspense ordeal…well, this is a TR fic, so I think the second seems more appropriate, no?_**

_**Aftermath**_

_**-Hostage-**_

ooo

"So, let me get this straight...you were shipwrecked on an uncharted island off the coast of Japan and have been suffering from severe PTSD and you didn't think to tell me this sooner, why?" Angel questioned, pacing across the living room floor of the tiny flat, biting his thumbnail anxiously.

Lara winced and brought her legs up on the couch, wrapping both arms tightly around them, resting her petite chin across her knees and stared down at the floor. She'd had a feeling revealing everything to Angel would take a bit of…editing, but no sooner had she said the words "shipwrecked" and "fight for my life" had the conversation taken a slight turn and caused Angel to pale like a ghost and sweat to bead up on his forehead. The pacing followed shortly after, and he'd been doing it until the story ended. The fact that he was still doing so worried Lara greatly, she could see a rut forming in the soft carpet beneath his feet.

"I'm sorry, I just…have had a hard time dealing with – everything. You have no idea how dealing with this has affected my, um, sanity-" she paused and bit her lip, trying to find another word, anything to make it sound less like she was a crazed lunatic. But no matter how hard she thought, she couldn't think of any explanation better than "sanity". She blushed and glanced back at the young man. "I know that makes me sound like a complete nutter, but, well…words will be words."

The young man furrowed his brow and then slumped his shoulders, stopping his incessant pacing to walk over and sit beside her, taking her hand in his and squeezing it between both his own. "You're not crazy, Lara. I know that – and contrary to belief, I can handle you having PTSD. I just wish you had told me a bit sooner, like when we first met at the club when you fainted and I had to drive you home?"

She smiled sheepishly and shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I suppose but Angel, you do recall I was quite inebriated at that time?"

"Ah, right," he chuckled. "How could I forget your little parting gift right before leaving my car."

She laughed lightly and covered her face. "Thanks for reminding me, you bastard." She shoved him hard on the shoulder but a smile was plastered to her face, feeling her cheeks heat up with a blush again.

He leaned toward her and pressed her mouth with a firm kiss, which she quickly pulled away from, as Sam's familiar face flashed in her periphery and she looked away from the man. Why she was suddenly reminded of Sam, she hadn't the foggiest but some nagging feeling in her gut told her how much she loved the other woman, how much she wanted _her _lips instead of Angel's; even though his felt rather soft and comforting. She just couldn't feel it.

His eyebrows raised at her withdrawal. "Did I do something?"

"What? Oh, no. Nothing like that…I just…," she bit her lip and sat up, retying the sash around her waist, fluffing the skirt of her robe nervously. "I guess I have a lot on my mind at the moment. It's very confusing, and…I think I need to sort it out."

Angel sat there in dejected silence for what seemed like ages, and for a moment, Lara thought she had hurt his feelings until he shook his head and stood abruptly, an easy smile plastered to his handsome features. He strode over to her and gripped her hand in his, patting it gently.

"You sort it out, then. Call me whenever you want." He leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and then disappeared out the front door, closing it firmly behind him, leaving Lara still standing in the middle of the living room, puzzled and yet relieved. She hadn't wanted to tell him the real reason behind her confusion, but it was suddenly clear to her. She'd thought she had felt something for Angel last night during their passionate lovemaking, and maybe she had, but after fulfilling that uncontrollable need, her head had been cleared.

She loved Sam; and somehow, she knew she always had.

Ooo

Angel shuffled down the street, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, a deep frown creasing his face with deep lines. He knew he shouldn't worry about Lara, seeing as two of his exes in the past claimed having "moments" and requesting time to think. He figured it was a normal female thing.

Of course, every time they had had those moments, they'd ended up breaking up with him a week later, pitching a bull shit speech about how wonderful he was and how much good he deserved in life and then finishing up by delivering the oh-so-overused saying of "it's not you, it's me".

So, if he was completely honest with himself, he would definitely say he was nervous about Lara's answer. Plus, she had that look in her eye, the look of utter confusion and, dare he say it, disiniterest.

_Great_, he thought bitterly to himself, kicking a crushed soda can lying on the sidewalk with disgust. _One unforgettable night of passion and she's ready to call it quits. You're life rocks, Angel. _He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his BlackBerry, checking the screen to see if he had any missed calls or texts. Mainly texts; he would have noticed a call but texts were easily missed and if Lara were to send him anything, he wanted to be answer ASAP.

"Relax, dude. Chill out," he told himself, breathing deeply before pocketing his phone. He turned sharply into an alleyway, which was his normal shortcut to get home when he was suddenly jumped from behind and then shoved violently up against the building to his left. A cold, metal thing was shoved against his temple and his heart nearly stopped.

"Don't make any sudden moves," a gravelly voice snarled from behind, no doubt the holder of the gun.

Angel's heart thumped hard and he wracked his brain quickly, trying to bring up memories on his age-old service training from the military. After he had been in a car accident and come out with a broken rib and knee, he'd been discharged and thus, figured he'd never had to put his fighting skills to the test. And now he had to remember. Fast.

_First thing to remember; never turn your back on your assaulter._

He scrapped that, seeing as his back was clearly already facing his assaulter. So, he opted for something else, something he had always thought was a shame that the military didn't teach this to their recruits. Improvisation; his favorite tactic. He took a long deep breath and then quickly dropped to a crouch, then spun around and swung his leg out, bringing it clear across Gun-guy's knees, knocking him backward. The gun fell from his hand, and Angel reacted fast, reaching for the weapon but the man seemed to know what he was doing. He recovered and knocked Angel back with a swift kick to the jaw, causing him to yelp in pain and stumble against the building again, forcing him to reach out and catch himself with his hand.

Gun-guy snatched up the weapon and fired two shots, both narrowly missing Angel's head as he ducked away, scrambling down the alley, seeking cover as another shower of bullets pinged the side of a dumpster near him. He flung himself behind it and flattened up against the back, stopping to catch his breath, before turning back around to glanc around the dumpster to see his attacker. Shockingly, he was nowhere to be seen. He had just been firing a moment ago, so he couldn't have gone far.

Just as Angel was about to leave the safety of his cover, a hand descended and before he could react, a sharp impact met the base of his skull and the word went dark.

Ooo

The sounds of angry, raised voices awoke Angel with a jolt and his eyes flew open, his immediate instinct being to get up and pursue the voices. But the minute he tried to stand, he realized he couldn't.

"What the f-?" he glanced down and saw that he was shackled tightly to a metal chair, and when he glanced around at his surroundings he realized that he was in some sort of interrogation room, though unlike the fancy white rooms with one-way mirrors seen in films and TV, this room was derelict and stank of piss and bleach. A bare bulb emitting a dull orangey glow hung above him, and he found he had to squint just to see beyond where he sat.

There was a rotted wooden table five inches in front of his knees, and much to his dismay, not much else. Which was fucking terrible because how the hell was he to defend himself from anyone coming in and trying to kill him? His ankles were strapped to the chair legs and his hands were bound behind him, so any hope of kicking out or loosening his binds was a no-go. Had they been rope restraints, maybe, but from the way they were cutting into his skin, he guessed they were made of a strong metal.

"Shit," he cursed, Now he was getting scared. How the hell did this happen? One minute he'd been cutting down the same alley he always took to get home, and the next he was being jumped by some asshole with a gun and then…well, whatever happened after that he couldn't remember; which meant he was knocked out and obviously brought here.

He wanted to know why, and his immediate thought was to call out for help, but then he remembered briefly hearing the voices when he first came to. He didn't want to risk being hit or worse, shot, so he kept his mouth shut. Clearly, he was brought here for a reason and if the assholes who did it wanted him dead, they would have done it by now.

But what the hell did they want with _him_? He had never been involved in any sort of gang or cult, nor had he given anyone any reason to hate him. He usually liked to steer clear of trouble, well, except for when he was seventeen. He didn't like to remember those times, because back then, the boy he was he didn't even recognize. It still haunted his dreams at the distinct memories of what he had done back then. Maybe these assholes who held him here now were enemies of the past? But then he remembered the man in the alley before he had blacked out. It had been brief, but Angel still knew that if he had known who he was, it wouldn't have taken him long to figure it out – and he definitely didn't know him.

So, why the hell was he in here and what did they want?

As if in direct response to his thoughts, a door that had been completely concealed in shadow until now creaked open, revealing a flood of white light and a dark silhouette standing just under the threshold.

Angel squinted, straining to see the figure's features but it was no use. He sat back and said, "Who's there?"

The only response was a low chuckle.

Ooo

"Hi, this is Sam. I'm clearly not here, but leave a message, and I don't know if I'll listen to it." Lara groaned as she heard her friend's message machine for about the umpteenth time. Why wasn't she picking up today? It was so unlike her. A small tendril of fear snaked around her gut, and she gripped her stomach, feeling sick. Ever since Yamatai, besides experiencing horrible flashbacks, she also had insane paranoia, especially about Sam. Any time she wasn't at home or didn't reply to IM's right away, or answer phone calls, Lara immediately had this feeling that someone had taken her like Matthias had to sacrifice her to Himiko.

But she knew that was utterly ridiculous because they were no longer on the island, and Sam had been safe for over two months. She didn't need Lara's protection anymore. If anything, she had been the one protecting Lara, what with all the therapy and horrible nightmares plaguing her nights. Sam had even spent two weeks staying with Lara, holding her close until she fell asleep.

Sam had been her ultimate protector. Her personal Oni to protect her, except much, much prettier. Plus, no Oni had ever made Lara want to kiss them like Sam seemed to.

She bit her lip in a dreamy expression and hung up the phone, not bothering to leave a message. She trudged over to her little kitchen and started a pot of coffee, hoping that the caffeine would calm her nerves like it usually did. God knows it's what she needed. Her mind felt so scrambled right now, all she wanted was to drink her coffee, curl up on the sofa and read about archaeology.

It was the one thing she knew wouldn't confuse her like so many things lately.

Ooo

Angel squinted into the light at the silhouette still standing in the doorway. For some reason, he hadn't spoken for at least fifteen minutes and it was getting to the point where he was beginning to wonder if the person was either a) retarded or b) taunting him to gain amusement. Whichever it was, Angel was growing tired and the light bleeding into the room from behind the person was started to hurt his eyes.

"Who are you?" he croaked out, surprised for the first time how hoarse he was. His throat felt like sandpaper and it hurt to swallow. How long had it been since he'd last had water? "What do you want?"

This time, the figure stepped into the room, closing the door firmly behind him, cutting off the bright light from the hall. Angel breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived when the person stepped under the dim light of the bulb above the table, displaying the most gruesome, hideous face Angel had ever seen.

He was young, maybe mid-twenties but what once must have been a handsome face was marred by three deep red cuts across his face, creating a Z-shape. His nose was bent at an odd angle, like it had been broken and never set. His eyes were set deep in his face, hooded by dark eyebrows that made him look even more sinister. Atop his head was a mop of dirty blond hair, and when he stepped farther into the light, Angel saw how dirty and matted it was, like he'd never washed it.

He felt like retching, but he suppressed it. "Who are you?"

The man placed two scarred hands on the tabletop and said in a deep, heavy Russian accent. "My name is Kristoff."

"Uh, okay. And do you know me, Kristoff?"

The man chuckled darkly. "No, but you and I both have something in common."

Angel raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Oh, and what is that?"

"We both had a particular interest in a certain Lara Croft."

Angel started at that, clenching his jaw in sudden anger and lurching toward Kristoff, eyes blazing. "How do you know Lara?"

"Oh, I don't know her personally, but, she did kill my brothers."

Angel blinked, unable to properly process what the man had just said. "What?"

Kristoff removed his hands from the surface of the table and started to pace the small room slowly, hands clasped behind him. "You see, I was on this island a few months ago called Yamatai, just off the coast of Japan. My brothers were with me and we'd been close to death a few weeks after trying to survive until a native by the name of Matthias found us, claiming to be apart of some movement called the 'Solarii'. He said if we joined him, we'd be guaranteed a chance of ever getting home, so like fools, we believed him and joined his crazy cult. I never believed in the whole thing, but my brother's Nik and Vlad did, so I tried to as well. But when things actually started to seem semi-promising, another ship crashed on the island and next thing I know, I'm hearing these rumors of a woman killing her way through the island...now, I'm sure you can guess who that woman was."

Angel gritted his teeth. "Go to hell."

Kristoff smiled. "I'm sure I'm already there. You see, when the last of your family have been brutally murdered on an uncharted island you were never sure you'd escape anyway, you lose all hope, and then suicide starts to look more and more promising. Of course," he stopped pacing and walked back over to the table, leaning over to stare at Angel, his foul breath making him gag, "Revenge is a powerful thing. It provides the drive one needs to keep going before finally deciding to end it all."

"And let me guess, you're seeking vengeance on Lara for killing your brothers?"

"You're catching on," the other man replied, smiling wickedly, displaying crooked, peg-like yellow teeth. Angel felt a lurch in his stomach and had to clench his teeth in order to keep the bile at bay.

Angel shifted in his chair and grinded his teeth angrily, taking a deep breath before saying, "So what the hell do you want with me?"

Kristoff leaned from the table and walked around it until he was standing right next to Angel. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a familiar device, and Angel laughed bitterly.

"And what exactly are you going to do with my phone?"

Kristoff pressed a few buttons on the screen and then roughly shoved it up against the other man's ear, the sharp ringtone almost deafening at first.

"You're gonna lure her in here."


End file.
